


Meeting his maker

by Gaia_bing



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Agoraphobia, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Happy Ending, M/M, Not Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-04 10:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17303309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaia_bing/pseuds/Gaia_bing
Summary: ...but not of the cloaky, skeletish kind.





	1. That thing on the concrete

**Author's Note:**

> ...don't ask.

Now, Steve Rogers could (proudly?) say that he'd come face-to-face with some of the most improbable events the Earth and even the entire Universe had ever witnessed:

  
\- Growing from a shrimp of a kid to suddenly harboring the body of a god in an instant thanks to a simple math formula,

  
\- Being in 1943 one second and in 2012 the next,

  
\- And seeing half of the entire Universe literally being snapped out of existence, only to be snapped back in thanks to some creative use of technology and time-travel.

  
...And those weren't even taking into account the talking raccoon.

  
But this...what he was staring at right now...

  
Definitely took the entire _bakery_ and then some.

 

Something nefarious was going on, they'd said.

  
Steve, you're the only man for this particular job, they'd said.

 

Please, please, please, please, _please_ , they'd also said.

  
And Steve, like the perfect soldier he had always tried to be, did as he was told (with a slight resigned and tired sigh) and, his trusty shield in hand, mounted his as-trusty motorcycle and went on his way.

  
As he rode and he rode and he rode the highway...

  
And blobs of a black substance suddenly made their apparition along the already-weary concrete, making Steve almost jump right out of his skin in shock,

  
And made him physically step away from his bike.

Rolling his motored steed alongside his form, he continued his trek on foot.

  
As he followed the trail of aged white paint, worn-out pieces of road and...

  
...

  
Surely the material analyser that he'd brought along with him (a very convenient invention his bosses, whoever or whatever they were, had provided him for the trip)...

  
Surely it was _wrong_.

  
But, try as he might not to believe it, by the the fifth and sixth time he'd taken a sample, after verifying that the substance wouldn't dissolve itself or his own form during contact, of course...

  
The evidence was standing right in his face...

  
Or should we say, laying at his feet.

  
Because the more Steve Rogers walked...

  
The less highway there was...

  
And the more the substance the machine had so strangely identified as...

  
**"INK"** ,

  
Made its presence known.

 

...

..

.

 

 

While somewhere, in a doubly, even triply-locked apartment...

 

...James Buchanan Barnes, sitting at his drawing table and now completely awake,

  
Could only dismally stare at the mess he'd just made.


	2. James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision and an *attempt* at cleaning things out are made.

"Crap, crap, crap, crap..."

  
James Buchanan Barnes quickly went into the bathroom.

  
"Crap, crap, crap, crap, _crap_!"

  
James Buchanan Barnes quickly came out of the bathroom.

  
He took a glance at the 8 1/2 by 11" page that was lying on the drawing table and that had become his _very_ thin pillow for his impromptu afternoon nap, trying to assess the damage that his carelessly laying-about hand holding his carelessly-filled to the brim feather-pen had caused...

  
The entire bottom right corner of the red and blue-lined piece of paper was soaked, absolutely through and through, with black ink.

  
What had taken him all morning to accomplish was just...

  
_Ruined_.

  
Bucky (that was how James had been called by the people closest to him ever since he'd been in diapers) mentally scolded himself for giving up so quickly, because this wasn't a former-Marine turned hobby-comic-maker should act like, as he took a gander at what he'd brought from the room he'd just visited...

  
And...at least _tried_...to get to work...

  
Paper towels: it only took away what hadn't been absorbed by the paper already,

  
Fluffy towel: See results of paper towels,

  
Hair dryer: hey, at least it did dry the paper.

 

He glanced at the bottle of liquid paper that was idly standing on top of his drawing table...

  
_Hmm, maybe this would do the trick,_ he thought to himself as, with the use of his one and only hand (thank you _so_ much, Iraq War), he carefully opened its cap...

  
And a streak of white and smelly liquid proceeded to gush out like a small waterfall...

  
From the top of the table, where the bottle was now laying in an opened position,

  
Down to its supposed destination, making a big white line over the now-dried mass of black ink,

  
Right onto it's _chosen_ destination, which were Bucky's favorite work jeans.

 

The long-haired man could only sit there and sigh miserably at the even bigger mess he'd just created.

 

But hey, when you're James Buchanan Barnes, since when has anything that you've done _not_ end up in complete disarray in the end, no matter how much you tried to do the right thing?

 

So really, he shouldn't have been surprised that trying to do some work on his own for once would result in something...

  
Like _this_.

  
Bucky dejectively looked at his wall-calendar...

 

Two days gone, only twenty-three more to go until his usual around-the-house-helper and best-friend-to-boot, Natasha Romanov, would come back from the vacation he'd begged the poor over-worked woman to go on...

  
But, right now, looking at the mess that was his work station, his apartment, hell his entire _life_ , Bucky couldn't help but wish the days to go by a little bit faster...

  
Or at least, for someone out there to come help him arrange the chaos that had become his existence ever since he'd left one of his arms and part of his sanity somewhere in the sandy dunes of the Middle East.

 

  
Oh, he could get all the help that he wanted from anywhere that he wanted...

 

...if he could use the telephone,

 

Or just open his front door,

 

  
Without having a panic attack every damn time he tried to do both things first...

  
**************

  
_"So, what you're telling us is that there's a hundred feet wide and who-knows-how-many-feet-deep crater right in the middle of the 9 West..."_ said whoever was in charge of the operation and that never had the courtesy of showing his or her face to Steve even though they were his boss.

  
"Yes." responded Steve from his end of the communication line.

  
_"...that was all liquidy at first and that the material analyser identified as..."_

  
"As ink, yes." Steve finished his boss' inquiry. "And that ink is now solid as a rock and a giant streak of liquid paper has somehow decided to join the party as well." he added.

  
_"...huh."_ was all his boss could say to that.

  
Steve sighed from his end of the line. "So, what do you think we should do about all of this?"

  
Whoever he was working for quickly retorted: _"Oh no, this isn't a **we** problem, Cap, this is a **you**  problem. Why do you think we sent you there? You're the one with the super-serum, you're the one that handles this kind of stuff, not us. No way."_

  
And Steve could only stand there as... "Hello?...Hello!?"

  
No response from his headset.

  
_....huh._ Steve's thoughts reflected his boss's as his eyes once again turned toward the large hole.

  
Thank god a security perimeter had been put up around the thing and there was no other people for miles on end.

  
The blond man stared at the horizon, which had turned from a gorgeous afternoon sunny sky,

  
To a mix of straight red and blue lines somehow.

 

...welp, whatever was going on was only going to get worse before it was going to get better, _that_ was for sure.

  
And, when it came down to it, all Steve Rogers could really do was what Steve Rogers usually did when it came time to deal with strange occurrences such as this...

  
Especially if he had to deal with this all on his own, with no backup whatsoever. 

 

So really, there was one thing left to do,

 

As Steve once again got on his motorcycle...

  
Revved up the engine once, twice,

  
Then, with a yell that sounded like one a cowboy would let out just before riding into unknown territory...

 

Jumped straight inside the ink-and-liquid-paper-made crater. 


	3. Knock Knock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two unexpected meetings...

Now Steve had pictured all kinds of strange destinations that he'd probably land into, when he'd made the rather brash decision of straddling his motorbike and pretty much launch himself into the unknown:

  
-Some unknown planet,

  
-back in 1943,

  
-straight into the Atlantic ocean,

  
-Heaven,

  
-Maybe even Hell.

  
But the middle of a rather busy and swarming with cars and people Time Square? Only ten minutes away from where he'd been beforehand?

 

That one...that one he hadn't really thought of, he admitted to himself.

  
Well, if he'd had the actual _time_ to admit that fact to himself, he would have...

  
Because one moment, the rubber tires of his metallic steed were landing smack dab in the middle of the 42nd and the next...

  
Well...

  
There was a rather long car in the way,

  
And Steve tried his best to get around it, he _really_ did.

  
And he would have...

  
If the front of his ride hadn't decided to get better acquainted with the front of what Steve discovered was a limo...

  
As he was suddenly launched into the air like a cannonball,

  
And a bearded man that he'd never seen before peeked his head out of the ceiling and let out a pretty worried-sounding:

  
_"Oh, oh dear."_

  
As the blond was the one now that landed smack dab in the middle of the 42nd,

  
And whose shield protected him against a future full of broken bones,

  
But not of a lost consciousness.

  
*******************

  
....

  
....

  
"...hello?"

  
A ringing in his ears, a painful throbbing in his head and that particular word were the first things that greeted Steve when he finally rejoined the world of the awakened. Gingerly opening his eyes, he almost let out a shriek when, just about two inches away from him...

  
_"Oh, would you look at that? He's finally back with us! F.R.I.D.A.Y? Cancel the ambulance call, our boy's gonna make it!"_

  
That...that was the man that had peered out of the limo earlier that was so close to his face like that...

  
And was now retreating back as Steve, with a slight groan, straightened himself into a sitting position and realized he'd been lying on a soft beige couch instead of the hospital bed he thought he would find himself into after that particular nasty fly-over he'd done.

  
Trying to get the nauseating waves in his brain to calm down, Steve closed his eyes and laying a hand against the side of his face, he let out his first words ever since he'd decided to take a trip inside what had turned out to be a simple teleporter of some kind:

  
"Hey...hey man. Thanks for whatever you did for me, here. And sorry about your limo, I'm sure that my boss is going to take care of it."

  
Opening his eyes, he saw that the stranger had taken residence on the back of a nearby chair perched up there like a curious large bird...

  
And was blinking and tilting his head at him, like a _confused_ large bird.

  
"And that boss would be...?" asked the bearded man, shrugging his shoulders as well as his arms.

  
Steve opened his mouth and raised a finger as he prepared to give an answer...

  
When he suddenly realized that he didn't even know what _organization_ had hired him all those years ago, even less for who he was working directly.

  
Concentrating to get the last few waves of dizziness out of the way, the blond man took a few staggering steps as he finally rose up from his former resting place, shaking his head when he saw the other man shifting from his perch in the hope of maybe helping him.

  
"Just huh...I uh, if it's any help and if you promise to keep on the down low what I'm about to tell you..." he said and finally staring at the man with a serious look upon his face, he finally announced with a bit of gravitas in his voice:

"I'm Captain America."

  
The bearded man raised up from his own previous perch, all the while looking at him, but not in a shocked or even an awed way like Steve had anticipated him to,

  
But still in a confused one, like he'd been doing so all this while.

  
"Well, the name sounds a little bit familiar but...I'm supposed to know you _how_ , exactly?" was his response.

  
Now it was Steve found himself with the same kind of confusion as he responded: "Captain America? I'm Steve Rogers."

  
The other man shook his head. "Stark Enterprises? I'm Tony Stark."

  
Steve also shook his head. "Hydra, Infinity Stones, Thanos?"

  
This Tony-man now looked even more confused as he said: "'The hell are _those_ supposed to be?" Taking a step forward, he was the one who asked now: "Hiroshima, 9/11, Obama?"

Now it was Steve who was at the peak of confusion: "What?"

  
Both men could only stand there, before looking down at the floor. As Steve began to realize...

  
Maybe it was more than a simple teleporter that he purposely fell into.

  
And he was about to ask this Tony Stark, who apparently was pretty important in this world, when suddenly...

  
The man in question raised his head, eyes growing big...

  
"Wait...I know where I heard this _"Captain America"_ shtick before!"

 

He quickly ran his eyes up and down the blond man while quickly turning around him once and then twice.

  
Like he was thinking something, Tony put a hand under his bearded chin and with a loud _"Hum",_ he said in a now incredulous voice, pretty much to no one but himself: "But that's not possible...because that would mean that you..."

  
He took a few steps, while looking once again at the floor, but not in confusion this time around: "But that would mean that he..." he muttered once more.

  
Steve could only once again stand there, now at the Mount Everest of confusion. "I'm sorry, but who's h-..."

  
But the other man didn't let him finish as he responded, like this was the most obvious thing in the world: "But then again, if Trump can get into the White House somehow, then maybe something as impossible as this is also possible."

  
And the blond man couldn't help but raise a finger, like a curious student: "I'm sorry, what's a _"Trump_ "?"

  
Only for the bearded man to let out a snort as he shook his head and grabbed the other man by the arm: "Oh, Barnes is in for a treat!"

 

And for the blond-haired man to ask, now in the stratosphere of confusion:

 

"What in the world is a _"Barnes_ "?"

  
****************

  
_*Knock* *Knock*_

  
Bucky sat at his kitchen table, tapping his bare foot on the floor, his fingers over his right ear.

  
_*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*_

  
He groaned.

  
This was the eight or ninth time whoever was at the front door was loudly banging on it and the long-haired man was doing everything his best friend had taught him to do, in case that he was all alone and no one was there to answer for him. 

 

So far, drowning the noise hadn't helped, since he only had one ear covered,

  
So far, waiting for the person to go away hadn't worked, since they were still knocking,

  
So, taking breath after breath to call himself down, Bucky did the third thing he'd been subscribed by Natasha...

  
"WHO IS IT??" he finally yelled out.

  
_"...BARNES?"_ came a familiar voice and Bucky's shoulders dropped in relief/annoyance.

  
... _Stark_.

  
The man that had been a constant pain in his ass ever since he'd come back from the Middle East.

  
The man that had begged, pleaded, hell pretty much had done everything except maybe seduce Bucky into, in his own words...

  
_"Please let me repair my father's faults!"_

  
"No." Bucky would say.

  
"I know it was one of his weapons that's left you in this state and therefore it was one of of _mine_ that did!"

  
"No." Bucky would repeat.

  
_"I'll do anything, I'll pay for everything, just let me..."_

  
And Bucky would turn around and with a sneer, always answer the same damn thing every time the billionaire would visit him for the past year or so,

  
Always once a week, always on a Tuesday for some reason.

  
"No, no and no! I am not going to become your little experiment or your little pet project, alright? I don't want your money, I don't want your pity and I most importantly don't want your freakin' metal arm attached to me so that you can maybe sleep a little bit better at night because of something your little daddy maybe did to me, okay!?"

  
And with that they'd both breath for a while or two, then Bucky would get to the fridge and offer Tony a beer, then they'd sat down and quietly chit-chat for the rest of the afternoon.

  
But, then again, the long-haired man glanced at his calendar...

  
So, Bucky dared to ask, half-hating himself for it:

  
"WHAT DO YOU WANT??"

  
_"OH, YOU'RE GONNA LOVE WHAT I'M HOLDING IN MY HAND RIGHT NOW! AND IT'S NOT A PROTOTYPE OF THE ARM THIS TIME I SWEAR!!!"_ he heard Tony reply from his side of the door.

  
This slightly piqued Bucky's curiosity. He was about to ask what exactly the billionaire was holding that seemed so interesting, when:

  
_"WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? OPEN THE DOOR AND CHECK IT OUT!"_

  
"TONY! YOU KNOW I CAN'T!!" yelled back Bucky, growing exasperated.

  
_"OH, RIGHT, PTSD-RELATED MILD AGORAPHOBIA, SORRY!"_ the other man answered.

  
"I GAVE YOU THE KEY OF THIS PLACE FOR A REASON, DIDN'T I? _YOU_ OPEN THE DOOR AND _YOU_ LET ME SEE WHAT YOU'RE HOLDING IN YOUR HAND THAT'S APPARENTLY SO AMAZING THAT YOU HAVE TO COME ON A FRIDAY INSTEAD OF A TUESDAY, LIKE YOU USUALLY DO!!!" was what Bucky called back and apparently, Tony Stark didn't need to be told twice...

  
As once second, the long-haired man heard the familiar clicking of a key being inserted inside the front lock,

  
And the next, having raised up from his kitchen table to greet the safe and familiar man, he found himself with an armful...

  
Of another one he hadn't seen before in his life.

  
And a third second ticked by, as Tony quickly made the introductions for the completely confused and awkwardly embracing men:

  
"James, this is Steve Rogers, your creation in the flesh, somehow. Steve, this is James Buchanan Barnes, your maker. 'Don't know how we got here, but here we are."

  
Before retreating back into the front door and out of the small apartment, just as quickly as he came...

  
**_"YOU KIDS HAVE FUN WITH WHATEVER THIS IS!!!"_ **


	4. The meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what is says on the label.

Both men, one because of space-height confusion and the other,

well, because of many, _many_ issues that he had with the outside world and other people,

  
rapidly separated form the embrace that they'd pretty much been catapulted into not thirty seconds earlier and, taking their safe distance, curiously and carefully eyed the other, just in case something bad would end up happening.

  
It took about another thirty seconds of eyeing (and quite frankly, checking out) before the tense silence was broken as Steve, with a raised eyebrow, asked the one question that had been through his mind ever since this Tony Stark had grabbed him by the arm and had pretty much dragged the poor man all the way into this stranger's...

  
Or, was he really _that_ much of a stranger?

  
...into this _man_ 's place.

  
"So, _you_ 're what is called a _"Barnes"_?"

  
"...and you're called Steve Rogers for some reason?" was what responded Bucky, still not understanding how in the world someone that was named just like...

  
And hell, _looked_ just like the character that he'd created was standing,

  
In the flesh,

  
Right there in his kitchen.

Speaking of which...

"What did that guy mean by " my maker"?"

  
"Why are you like my comic character?"

  
...was what came out of both men's mouth at the same time.

Bucky opened his mouth, trying to respond.

  
Then closed it, having absolutely no idea what to say.

  
It was Steve that asked the next question:

  
"What do you mean by _"comic character"_?"

  
That finally made the long-haired man come up with an answer:

  
_"I...I think I need to show you something."_

  
***************

  
Now, if someone had told Steve that he'd find something even more unbelievable than a talking raccoon _and_ a ink-filled crater somewhere in his life, he'd told them to get some fresh air and maybe take a long, reflecting walk.

  
But this, all that he was staring at right now...

  
It took the entire goddamn _pastry industry_ and then some.

  
Right there, in this small office, inside a world that he pretty much dropped into,

  
Was _himself_.

  
Drawings after sketches after drawings after sketches...

  
Every important moment that he'd lived,

  
Every crazy monster or power-lust maniac that he'd come across in his many adventures,

  
Were all there in two-dimensional...and in quite the badly-drawn...

  
... form.

And it got him to think...

  
Was this why he'd always thought his life was just a series of crazy events and unbelievable encounters?

  
With no moment of peace in between?

  
Was this why, as tried as he might, there were complete days,

  
Maybe even _weeks_ ,

  
He couldn't remember living through?

But, what really drove him over the edge,

  
What made his mind going from denial to acceptance...

  
Was the stained piece of lined paper that was laying on this Barnes guy's work table.

"I...I went through something that looked like that to get here." exclaimed Steve with a once-again shaking voice, almost reverently grazing his fingers on top of the white and black funnel-shaped mess that quickly stained his fingers.

  
He took a good, long look at his blackened fingers, quickly turned around to look at the long-haired man and asked:

  
"You're the one that did this?"

  
For Bucky to nod and respond:

  
"I was working on a piece this morning and I fell asleep on top of my table. I had a pen inside my hand that was filled to the brim with ink and well...and then I tried to repair it with liquid paper..."

  
"It decided to joined the party." finished Steve.

  
Bucky simply nodded once more, not knowing what else to say.

  
Steve did a 360 around his surroundings, trying his hardest to understand what was going, despite accepting that what he was a witness was in fact reality and asked the one question that had plagued his mind ever since he'd entered the small office and his entire reality shifted...

  
_"...why?"_

And Bucky, wrapping his only available arm around himself, looked down at the floor as he answered in a hushed voice:

  
"There was, there is still, a war in the Middle East. Iraq, more precisely. I was a sergeant there, serving my country for three years running when there was an attack by insurgents on my battalion. I lost three men and my other arm, in the middle of it all. I got discharged because of my amputation and I've been living in this building like a damn hermit for the past year. I can't go outside without freaking out, I can't touch people without freaking out. I can't almost do anything without freaking out."

  
He looked upwards at Steve as he continued:

  
"I have people around me that try their hardest to help, you might even have met one of them just now, but even with all of their aid, the ones that I accept to take and the ones that I don't, it just wasn't enough...I wanted to regain a part of myself, the one that I left back in that Iraqi sand...so I created Steve Rogers, someone that had the opportunity of a lifetime to defend what he believed in, like I did and took the job without even thinking, like I did."

  
And he couldn't help but sniff a bit as he finished:

  
"And that, even in the bleakest of situation, when half of the entire universe was erased by the snap of gauntlet, was never a coward and never even dared to give up on himself, like _I_ did."

  
That triggered something inside Steve's mind, as he quickly approached the other man's now shaking figure and, without making contact because of the chance of a bad reaction, said in his most caring voice:

  
"Hey look, James, is it?"

  
"...Bucky." the man in question corrected for him.

  
Steve nodded in response: "Right, Bucky. Look, I'm trying to make heads and damn tails of what's going on here, but let me tell you, you're no coward. Not even for feeling like you do right now. Because believe me, it may not seems like it, because in your eyes all of it is just drawn on a piece of paper, but there's been many, _many_ times when I was _this_ close to give up on myself. But, do you know why I never did?"

  
Bucky shook his head, trying his damnest to wipe the slowly falling tears from his cheeks.

  
Delicately, Steve put a warm hand on top of the other man's scarred shoulder as he said: "It's because, no matter where my unknown bosses sent me..."

  
"...they would have turned out to be Hydra, you know." Bucky couldn't help but squeeze in and Steve could only shake his head at that. No reason his bosses were such jerks.

 

He continued: "...how much much trouble I ended up being and no matter how much of a low I was, there was always a voice...out there...that I never knew where it came from and now that I'm hearing it, I think it was yours, that always encouraged me somehow. It always told me to get up and keep fighting, because: " _Captain America never quits, Captain America is powerful and tall and more importantly..._

  
_"...Captain America is Steve Rogers, who's always been stronger than the strongest of them all._ " Bucky finished with a slight grin, knowing the tagline by heart.

  
The blond man shared the other man's smile as he added: "Actually, now that I've seen and heard everything, I fully believe that James Buchanan Barnes could be the strongest of them all."

  
Letting out a slight disbelieving scoffs, Bucky asked: "And how exactly, pray tell, can I even begin to achieve that particular feat, hum?"

 

Only for Steve to let go of the other man's shoulder and...

  
Offered his own kind of help and his hand by responding in a quiet voice:

  
_"By accepting what I believe is the reason I was sent in this quite weird but maybe-not-so-bad-world for."_


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brand new world opens on an old one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, all up and finished! Thanks everyone who read and liked this story, even thought it was quite a silly one I admit. :)

James Buchanan Barnes had never been so afraid in all of his life.

  
Not when he'd been in Iraq, not when he'd been attacked...

  
Not even after he'd come home with all of his ghosts and self-doubts accompanying him along the way.

  
Here he sat, after:

  
\- Seven months,

  
\- Lots of inward and outward work,

  
\- And a brand new, state-of-the-art second metal arm,

  
Inside a small bookstore, finally realizing his dream of sharing his mind with the world as a brand new comic was about to hit the scene.

  
This one was about a gaped-tooth man finding a mysterious blue, white and red round shield standing at his doorstep, like a gifted newborn awaiting his future parent,

  
His next carrier,

  
The Captain America that this world will come to know.

  
( _"Are you sure about this?"_ would ask Bucky every now and then. _"I can always give you your old job back, you know. Just a another mess made of black ink and liquid paper somewhere and presto-chango, you're back..."_ And Steve, like always, would shut the other man by putting a finger on his lips and saying with determination from his side of what had become his and the other man's shared working place: _"And I keep telling you, I'm fine where I am. Now, give me some more of that blue ink, Sam Wilson's new costume needs to be more patriotic."_ And that would be the end of the exchange, as both men would get back to what had become much more than a discovered shared-hobby, it was now their way of living.)

  
And, as the doors of the store finally opened and the gathered enthusiastic crowd came pouring in to be greeted by the hottest duo of comic writers to come into this world in quite some time, Steve reassured the other man, in the same way he'd always done so from the first time they'd met, by placing a warm hand on his scarred shoulder...

  
Only for Bucky, in response, to share something with Steve that the duo didn't dare to show this quite weird but not-so-bad-world just yet,

  
As a metallic hand made its way underneath the autographing table and a formerly imaginary and made of ink one, but that was now absolutely real and made of flesh,

  
Joined it and interlocked two men and two worlds together.

  
And yeah, like that, both Steve Rogers _and_ James Buchanan Barnes were in fact stronger than the strongest of them all. 


End file.
